


Ritual

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [161]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Drabble, Dressing, M/M, Promises, Short & Sweet, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: It had become something of a ritual. Something of an unspoken promise.





	Ritual

   Stephen stood waiting in the silence of their master bedroom in the penthouse, robed and arms crossed. He was tired and late and by all rights Stephen knew the smart thing to do would be pulling his clothes on hurriedly and striding through a portal with a quick apology to Wong and the masters.

   Instead he wandered aimlessly toward the bed, perching on the edge and staring hard at the doorway like that might summon his wayward lover. Stephen had his doubts and clearly so did the Cloak which was doing a fantastic impression of a disapproving parent.

   It was enough to draw a smile to Stephen’s lips as his hand tugged at the robe absently, eyes drifting between the door and the clock again and again. Of course, he shouldn’t have worried, as Tony came barrelling into the room with a huff.

   “I’m sorry!” was the first thing he managed to wheeze.

   Stephen raised an eyebrow, “I suppose I have Friday to thank?”

   Tony nodded, cheeks a little red and naturally all was forgiven in the blink of an eye, as he made his way to the closet.

   “The usual?”

   Stephen hummed the affirmative, watching Tony pull out a hanger adorned with his multilayered robes and belts. His lover moved with practiced efficiency, walking over to the bed and laying out each part with a kind of care that sent Stephen’s stomach fluttering.

   When Tony was ready, he looked up and smiled at him, hands already tugging Stephen into a standing position. Without a word of protest, he let Tony make quick work of the robe, pulling it off his shoulders, leaving him naked but for his briefs and a bit cold.

   As always Tony was quick to hand him the trousers, before turning away to disassemble the doubled layered shirt. Stephen tugged up the pants, using the drawstrings to tighten the thick fabric and meeting the softness in Tony’s eyes with his own, once he’d turned back to him.

   Stephen knew it should be odd, this routine of theirs. This ritual. Except he’d never been able to see it that way, not since the first time they did this, with Stephen bruised and stitched up in half a dozen places but still needing to go to Kamar-Taj and meet with the sorcerers.

   That first day, Stephen had barely been able to move, let alone dress himself. Every shift of his fingers and muscles had been agony, irritating one wound or another and just when the burn of helpless frustration had hit its peak, Tony had quietly tugged the clothing from his grasp and set to work helping him dress.

   It should feel humiliating, even childish. But it didn’t, not with Tony.

   In the days that followed, it became something of a tradition. Stephen, in pain and unable to manage the intricacies himself, though nevertheless determined to appear unaffected while at the Sanctum and Kamar-Taj, would patiently wait for Tony’s assistance.

   When the wounds closed themselves and the bruises faded, they…just kept doing it.

   Tony lifted the under tunic and waited until Stephen had bowed his head and raised his arms before sliding it on. There was always a moment here, before reaching for the next piece where Tony would adjust the fabric, tugging and pulling until it was sitting on Stephen’s frame to his satisfaction. The focus in his gaze never failed to make Stephen grin.

   Next Tony reached for the top layer, just a bit thicker though still breathable. Once more, Stephen bowed his head and waited as Tony took an excessive amount of time fixing the collar and fitting the sleeves gently around scarred wrists.

   “You know I’m late for a meeting,” Stephen murmured.

   Tony wiped invisible lint off his chest, smirking, “I know.”

   Bastard.

   The belts came next. It had been trial and error when they did this the first time. Tony had quickly grown frustrated by the never-ending belts and all but threw them down in a huff when he finally got them on only to realize they were inside out, the little loops for the sling ring buried against Stephen’s stomach.

   Tony was nothing if not diligent and by the third day he was an expert.

   The belts were on and a finger was being pressed between them and the fabric, an eyebrow being raised to inquire if it was too tight. Stephen shook his head.

   “Arms,” Tony commanded.

   Stephen raised his right one first, straight out in front of him. Tony picked up the bindings which would twist about three-quarters up his forearm. This was one of Stephen favourite parts, mostly because of how much he knew Tony loved it.

   When Tony began wrapping them there was a softness to his gaze that made Stephen’s heart speed up every single time. His attention would be split between the long pieces of fabric and Stephen’s face, weary of causing him pain. But then, that was sort of the point. Stephen knew Tony reveled in the trust this simple gesture offered, not matter how many times they did it.

   Tony was the one to gently push that arm back to its side and lift the second, only to repeat the process. It was done almost too quickly for Stephen’s liking.

   “You’re almost done princess,” Tony teased, guiding him to sit on the bed and retrieving the boots.

   “Hmm, about time.”

   Tony rolled his eyes but kneeled in front of him all the same and patiently began the arduous process of sliding on the boots and quickly strapping them up with the excessive number of belts. Still, his nimble fingers made quicker work of it then even Stephen’s own magic.

   When he had finished it was the same every time.

   Tony would get to his feet with a groan. A hand would tug Stephen up. Lips would press insistently to his. The words ‘I love you’ would be whispered.

   Stephen smiled, hugging him close for a moment before turning away and sliding on his sling ring, feeling ready for the day with his armour on and his lover waiting patiently behind him to repeat the process in the reverse when he’d finally returned home.

   It had become something of a ritual. Something of an unspoken promise.


End file.
